


JohnLock: Remember Me

by KingOfHearts709



Category: Sherlock - Fandom, johnlock - Fandom
Genre: Amnesia, Hospital, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Vatican Cameos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-09 01:37:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4328799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingOfHearts709/pseuds/KingOfHearts709
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Sherlock's fault, and Sherlock's responsible for fixing it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	JohnLock: Remember Me

**Author's Note:**

> Huh. This was actually a prompt on Facebook. Who knew? xoxo

Sherlock sat impatiently outside the hospital room, eyes darting from nurse to doctor, deducing them as a distraction to his worry.  
John had gotten hurt.  
And not just your average, any-day hurt. John had amnesia.  
Sherlock could recall what had happened. It was his fault.  
***  
“John!” Sherlock yelled to his companion as he ducked behind a car.  
“Sherlock, you okay?” John called back, his gun poised and ready to fire if need be. They were both on a case for Mycroft, and though it should have been initially easy to capture the criminal, Sherlock had made one tiny mistake.  
Mainly, he had gone to the wrong shed and was forced to pursue him head-on.  
A flurry of bullets rang out from the criminal’s automatic gun, hitting the car where John was hiding. John, being used to the sound, kept calm. Sherlock, however, jumped slightly and almost screamed. Sure, he could shoot the wall. With a handgun.  
But a rifle? No.  
The next ten bullets flew towards Sherlock. In shock, he ran out from behind the car. He just couldn’t take that much. He was in the street. He had the criminal in his eyesight.  
But not the bus.  
“Sherlock!” John yelled when he saw the detective in the street. He ran out from behind his cover and launched himself towards Sherlock to push him away from the speeding bus.  
***  
“Mr. Holmes?” a voice snapped Sherlock away from his thoughts.  
“What?” he asked in a hurry as he stood. “Is he okay? Is he awake?” The nurse that stood in front of him nodded.  
“He’s fine, no serious physical damage,” she assured. “His amnesia is very bad. We tested and he can’t remember the last year, and he has slight basic memory loss."  
Sherlock’s breath hitched.  
That meant that John didn’t know who he was.  
“Can I see him?” Sherlock asked. The nurse nodded and held open the door for him. Sherlock took careful steps as he walked in to see his companion lying on the hospital bed. The door closed behind him and he went to sit on the edge of the bed. John stirred slightly and groaned.  
“Mm?” he mumbled as he sat up, wincing slightly.  
“Hello, John,” he said quietly. John opened his eyes fully and stared at the man sitting on his bed.  
Who was he again?  
“Sorry, do I know you?” he asked, confused. Sherlock gave a tight smile and shrugged half-heartedly. “Should you be sitting on my bed?”  
“I’ll get up if you want me to,” Sherlock said as he went to stand.  
“No, no, it’s fine,” John said, and Sherlock sat back down. John furrowed his brow as he studied the man in front of him. He had dark, curly locks, high cheekbones, a coat, a scarf, and blue-grey eyes.  
It all seemed too familiar.  
“Did the nurse say how long I have to stay here?” John asked Sherlock.  
“No, she didn’t,” Sherlock replied. “I’ll go ask her now.” Sherlock stood and brushed off his coat before walking out. John tilted his head.  
Who was this man?  
Sherlock re-entered the room and smiled a little bigger than he was earlier.  
“You can go home, if you want to now,” Sherlock informed.  
“Oh, good,” John said, then shook his head. “No, wait, where do I live?”  
“You live with me.” Those words threw John for a loop. He lived with this man? He decided to accept it, even though he had no idea what was going on. Sherlock walked over to the side of the bed and took John’s arm and helped him out of bed. He was in a hospital gown, John noticed. As his foot hit the ground, he struggled to remember how to walk properly. When he finally trusted his feet to carry him, he took a step, then another. He had gotten the knack of it quickly and walked at a normal pace.  
“I've got it," he said, and Sherlock let go of his arm. John looked around. "Are there any clothes for me?"  
"No, John, but there's some at home." John nodded, then furrowed his brow. This man kept calling him 'John'.  
"Is my name John?" he asked, confused. "You keep calling me John."  
"Yes, it is."  
"Okay." Sherlock led John out of the room and past the reception desk, through the front doors and into the blinding sunlight. John covered his eyes and stumbled a little.  
"God, it's bright," he commented. After gaining his vision enough, he started walking again. Sherlock led him to a car, probably one he rented from Scotland Yard. Sherlock opened the driver’s door and sat behind the wheel. He still wasn’t entirely sure whether he could drive that well, but there was no way he was letting a cabbie take John home. John stood next to the door and stared at the handle.  
“John, get in, please,” Sherlock said. John looked up, then back at the handle. How did it work again? John grasped the handle and pulled and to his relief, the door swung open. He sat down in the passenger’s seat and looked ahead.  
“The door, John,” Sherlock reminded. John nodded and closed the door. Motionless again. "Seatbelt." John blinked. Sherlock rolled his eyes, but kept himself patient for John's sake. He leaned over and took hold of the seat belt, pulling it over John and clicking it in place. John watched the whole time, confused like a small child. Sherlock went back to the wheel and started the car. John jumped at the sudden movement, but realised it was just the motor. He relaxed and let Sherlock take him to 221B.  
~ Time Skip brought to you by Anderson~  
Sherlock stood in front of the door to 221B, waiting for John to accompany him. Once out of the car, John walked carefully and looked at the door.  
"This place looks expensive," he said.  
"The landlady has given me a special deal," Sherlock said. "I helped with her husband's execution."  
"You stopped her husband from being executed?"  
"No, not at all. I insured it." John tilted his head, still completely confused.  
That phrase sounded familiar.  
Sherlock opened the door and led John through, up the stairs and into the flat.  
"It's a bit messy," John said as he looked round.  
"I'll clean it up later," Sherlock assured.  
"You never do."  
Sherlock stopped. He froze on the spot.  
He never did? John knew that he never cleaned up? He looked up at John, who was grinning, eyes glinting with happiness.  
"Hello, Sherlock."


End file.
